


A Mile in Your Shoes

by GalahadThePure



Category: Dragalia Lost (Video Game)
Genre: Eventual Smut, M/M, Plot, Some Humor, body swapping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:22:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27361933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalahadThePure/pseuds/GalahadThePure
Summary: Curran and Heinwald go off to investigate an Abyssal that has been polluting water sources with a strange secretion. The two corner the fiend, only for it to self-destruct, coating them in Abyssal sludge. The following morning, the two wake up to discover they have swapped bodies!On Hiatus
Relationships: Curran/Heinwald (Dragalia Lost)
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

Curran raised his hand to the oaken door, knocking on it thrice to announce his presence. As an inquisitor of his status, meetings with the Cardinal were not an uncommon occurrence. He usually met with him and several other high-ranking clergymen at least once a fortnight, yet as soon as Curran was given the ok to enter, he noticed the room was rather empty. It was just him and the Cardinal, which could only mean one thing…

“Your Holiness,” he said, “It’s been a while since you’ve called a one on one meeting.”

“Good morning Curran,” the Cardinal replied, “I’m certain by now you’ve already discerned the reason why I’ve called you here by yourself.”

“Yeah. The only time you call me in for a solo meeting is if you have a case for _him._ ”

“I do wish one day your partner would be kind enough to grace us with his presence. Even if he doesn’t work for the Church officially, his sleuthing ability has been an invaluable asset for the Inquisition.”

Curran cringed. He loved Heinwald to death, both as a partner in work and in life, but he knew officially introducing him to the Cardinal would be a big mistake. The Ilian Church was still sadly a conservative bastion, and Heinwald’s eccentric nature would stick out amongst the clergy like a sore, purple thumb. His appearance alone would probably be enough to make a cleric faint, and he may very well end up clapped in irons the second he stepped into the steeple.

“Maybe some day…” Curran fibbed, “Heinwald has never been one for social gatherings… But what’s this case you have for us, your Holiness?”

“We have received reports of village water sources becoming polluted with a strange sludge as of late,” the Cardinal informed.

“Think it might be from some corruption in the area’s water mana?”

“Initially, that was what we believed, but just last night we received a concerning report. A volunteer went to one of the affected sites around the Saint Lotier marshlands last night to assist in cleanup, when he spotted something unspeakable. A creature had emerged from the miasma, and he witnessed it spewing its sludge into the bogs. He described it as an unfathomable horror, whose presence alone made him question his own sanity.”

“Sounds like an Abyssal to me.”

“Which would make this case fall under your jurisdiction.”

“I take it you want me to track it down and take it out then.”

“Correct, but if possible, could your partner collect and analyze a sample of its sludge? We have encouraged civilians to avoid drinking the contaminated water out of caution, but we still have yet to discover the sludge’s actual affects. If the beast secreting it truly is an Abyssal, I can only imagine the horrible side effects it would inflict were one to come into direct contact with it.”

“I’m sure Hein would want to do that even if you didn’t ask. But I’ll make sure he writes up a thorough report on its properties.”

“May the Goddess watch over you in your quest.”

Curran bowed his head politely before leaving the Cardinal’s office. This case was right up Heinwald’s alley. Getting to hunt down an Abyssal and be able to experiment with its secretion without being called a heretic? He’d be like a kid in a candy store. He pulled out his pocketwatch, checking the time. Given the hour, it was likely that Heinwald had returned to his manor for the day. Maybe if he hurried over, Curran could snag a home cooked lunch from one of the estate chefs. Dating a nobleman certainly came with its perks. He left the Church, heading through the town towards Heinwald’s estate. Having traveled this familiar path countless times before, walking to Heinwald’s mansion almost felt like second nature. Even the commoners residing in his territory all knew him by name: Curran, the partner of their benevolent lord. Fifteen or so minutes of walking later, he finally made it to the gates of Heinwald’s estate, walking up to the front door and knocking. A butler was quick to answer, bowing to their frequent guest.

“Sir Curran,” he greeted, “A pleasure as always. Is Lord Heinwald expecting you?”

“Afraid it’s kind of a spontaneous visit,” Curran replied, “But I got some news for him that’s sure to put a smile on his face.”

“Lord Heinwald is currently taking his lunch at the moment. Would you please follow me to the dining room?”

“Lead the way.”

Curran grinned. It looked like he was about to score a free lunch. He followed the butler through the gilded foyer, down the hallway and towards the kitchen and dining room. Heinwald’s personal chef was already beginning to do the dishes, but it looked like he still had leftovers from Heinwald’s meal sitting on the countertop. Curran was half tempted to just grab it and go, but it would probably be more polite of him to ask Heinwald first, even if he almost always said yes. The two entered the dining room, noticing Heinwald sitting alone at the head of the table.

“Lord Heinwald,” the butler announced, “A visitor has come to see you.”

Heinwald daintily wiped his mouth, turning his head to see his partner waiting for him to finish. He heaved a sigh of relief. As of late, fellow noblemen had been bringing their daughters to his manor unannounced, desperately trying to wed them off to him. The suitors were more of an annoyance than anything else, but it was still nice to have his actual lover come to visit, regardless of whether it was for business or pleasure.

“Come to poach the remnants of my luncheon yet again, Curran?” Heinwald teased.

“Only if that’s ok with you,” Curran smiled, “Finding cases for you works up quite the appetite.”

“Sit down Curran. I already took the liberty of having my chef prepare an extra helping on the off chance you decided to visit.”

As Curran made himself comfortable in the chair next to Heinwald, Heinwald turned to his butler.

“James,” Heinwald ordered, “Please retrieve the extra plate for my partner from the kitchen if you would.”

“As you wish, milord,” James the butler bowed.

“So Curran,” Heinwald asked, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Just got back from a meeting with the Cardinal,” Curran replied, “He’s got a hot new case ready for you to crack open.”

“Do tell.”

James returned to the dining room with a plate of salmon meunière, the buttery sauce still glistening on the pink filet. Curran wasn’t as much of a fish guy as Heinwald, but he couldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. He poked his fork into the fish, the tender meat flaking at the touch, and lifted it to his mouth. To his surprise, the fishy taste was pretty subdued, and the tender filet melted in his mouth. Curran swallowed his mouthful, setting his fork down to brief Heinwald on their case.

“The Cardinal informed me about an Abyssal presence near the Saint Lotier Marshlands,” he said, “It has been secreting sludge into the water supply, polluting and disturbing the environment’s mana flow.”

“Is that so?” Heinwald responded, rubbing his chin in intrigue, “It sounds more like a hunt than a case, considering we know the source of the sludge.”

“Well here’s the thing. Even if we do know where it comes from, the Cardinal had no clue what the sludge actually does. No one has gotten close enough to it to know the side effects of being exposed to it, so the Cardinal requested you take a sample of it and analyze it. For all we know, it could be harmless, but I highly doubt that’s the case considering it’s an Abyssal’s secretion…”

“Hmm… now that, I could get behind. Would the Cardinal be opposed to me keeping some of the sludge for myself? It would make a fine addition to my collection.”

Curran shook his head, sighing. Same old Heinwald…

“Why did I have a bad feeling you’d say that…” Curran groaned.

“I haven’t heard a no, Curran,” Heinwald smirked, “Does that mean I can keep it?”

“Do whatever you want I guess, but try not to do something too creepy with it.”

“Oh Curran, my dear. You know I can’t make that promise.”

“What am I going to do with you…”

Curran returned to eating his salmon, Heinwald taking a sip of his drink as he watched.

“So, when does our hunt begin?” Heinwald asked.

“Apparently the Abyssal usually comes out at night,” Curran explained, “So unless you already had evening plans, I was thinking we should strike while the iron’s rot.”

“You mean while the iron’s _hot,_ Curran.”

“Bah, you know what I meant!”

“Of course. I’ve come to understand your slips of the tongue like a second language. If you think that’ll stop me from teasing you about it, you’re in for a sorry surprise, my love.”

“You can be so insufferable sometimes, you know that Hein?”

“Why thank you, Curran. I love you too.”

“We’ll make for the marshlands tonight. Make sure you’re well prepared.”

***

Mist hung low on the bogs of Saint Lotier, so thick Curran could hardly see his hand in front of his own face. He could only imagine how difficult it was for Heinwald to see in this fog, his vision already bad enough to require spectacles. Heinwald kept a tight grip on his partner’s hand, a bag filled with flasks, protective gloves, and other necessities for collecting a sample in the other.

“It’s not like you to hold onto me like this, Hein,” Curran said, “You scared?”

“Ever the desire to play the hero,” Heinwald sighed, “I’ve stared into the gaping maw of the Abyss, Curran. A little fog won’t frighten me-EEEE!”

Heinwald practically jumped into Curran’s arms as frigid dew dripped from a tree branch onto the back of his neck. Curran could feel a giggle coming on, but even with the thick fog, he could practically sense Heinwald scowling at him.

“Laugh and it will be the last thing you ever do,” Heinwald threatened.

“Aww, babe,” Curran teased, “Scared of a little water?”

“Scared is a rather strong word. It merely caught me by surprise.”

“Whatever you say, Hein.”

They proceeded deeper into the heart of the marsh, the fog slightly clearing as they grew closer to their destination. Heinwald looked down into the swampy bog beneath his feet, stopping dead in his tracks. Mounds of bioluminescent sludge glowed on the ground, beginning to seep into the waters and spread throughout the ecosystem.

“Wait, Curran,” Heinwald said, kneeling down and sliding on his protective gloves, “Cover me. I’ve found an ideal sample.”

“Shouldn’t we get to looking for the actual Abyssal first?” Curran asked.

“It is far easier to extract a sample when it isn’t on a moving target. Besides, it’s in a large enough pile that I won’t end up accidentally contaminating it with soil or water.”

“Hard to think that pure water would be considered a contaminant of all things…”

“Anything that could skew my results would be considered as such. Now be on your toes. The sludge still looks relatively fresh, so I have reason to believe the Abyssal is nearby.”

“Gotcha. You do your thing Hein.”

Curran gripped tightly at the pike of his axe as Heinwald scraped away at the sludge with a scalpel, transferring it into a flask and sealing it off. Even when contained in a glass container, the sludge still maintained its eerie, violet glow.

“How intriguing,” Heinwald smiled, swishing the viscous substance around in the flask, “If this secretion proves to be harmless, it could work as a excellent artificial light source.”

“You’ve got enough of it to analyze properly Hein?” Curran asked.

“For the sludge itself, yes. Now I just need to take some samples from the water and soil. It will provide a solid control group for my research.”

“Whatever you say.”

Curran looked around the marsh, keeping watch as his partner gathered the samples he needed. He wished there was something he could do to help, but at times like this, it was best to just stand guard and keep Heinwald safe. Like he said earlier, that Abyssal could be anywhere, and Curran needed to be prepared on the off chance it decided to strike. Suddenly, he heard a guttural growl in the distance, noticing the water of the swamp take on the same unsettling glow as the slime.

Then, he saw it: a writhing mass of tentacles and orbs, spewing sludge out of its toothy maw. It was much smaller than they Abyssals they had dealt with in the past; about the size of a fiend, in comparison to Nyarlathotep and Hastur who were easily as large as dragons. Perhaps it was a minor Abyssal, a fragment, a page who served a greater elder deity. Curran tried not to move a muscle. Abyssals, even minor ones, had hearing so keen it would put a wolf to shame. If they made even the softest sound, the Abyssal would immediately learn of their presence, and charge. He gazed down at Heinwald, who was now filling his last flask with bog water.

“Hein,” Curran whispered, “You might want to hurry up! We’ve got company!”

“I’m almost done,” Heinwald replied, “Just be patient Curran, then we can strike.”

Heinwald screwed the lid onto his last flask, placing it gently in his bag. The glass struck against another within, making a soft clinking sound that made the two freeze in place. It was just loud enough to alert the Abyssal of their presence. The being turned to them, its faceless maw shrieking as sludge spewed from its every orifice. It charged forth, tainting the water its tentacles touched with its corrupt, thick sludge.

“Here it comes,” Curran shouted, readying his axe.

“Don’t worry. I’m on it,” Heinwald replied, muttering a spell under his breath, the tip of his staff glowing purple, “Abyssal Connection!”

Curran felt energy surge through his body as Heinwald’s empowering buff took affect. By the time the Abyssal had reached them, Curran was ready, parrying its blow with his axe. He knocked the writhing mass back, yet even after cleaving off several of its tentacles, shattering many of its orbs, the Abyssal was still up and kicking. It let out a low cackle, sludge now spilling from its open wounds.

“What the hell?” Curran hissed, “It’s spewing even more sludge now!”

“Use the blunt part of your weapon Curran,” Heinwald ordered, “Creating more orifices on it will only increase the areas it can secrete from.”

“Gotcha.”

Curran charged back at the Abyssal, using his axe almost like a club to beat the Abyssal down. Heinwald slung spells at the creature from afar, chanting a healing spell if Curran appeared wounded or fatigued. The Abyssal was nearly cornered, bruised and on its last legs, well… tentacles. Just as Curran was about to deal the finishing blow, a tongue lapped at the teeth of its maw, the creature rumbling and vibrating. Curran looked into its mouth inquisitively, lulled into the false sense of security that it had been beaten into submission. Yet Heinwald knew better, charging forward to warn his partner.

“CURRAN!” he yelled, “GET OUT OF THERE! IT’S GONNA BLOW!”

“What?” Curran wondered.

Heinwald grabbed onto Curran, trying to pull him away from the blast zone, but it was too late. The Abyssal self-destructed, glowing sludge exploding all over the two. The sludge was as sticky as glue, and it felt like an electric charge ran through it. Curran and Heinwald cried out in agony, their interlocked hands feeling as if they had been lit on fire, yet no matter how hard they tried to pull apart, it was as if the sludge had bound them together. A glow emanated from their chests, ebbing and rising in time with the beating of their hearts. Yet as quickly as the pain grew unbearable, it was gone, leaving the two as hale as they were before, just covered in sticky slime. Curran finally had the strength to pull his hand away, shaking the thick sludge off as best he could.

“Did that thing just…” Curran gagged, “Explode?”

“It appears we activated its defense mechanism,” Heinwald sighed, “But that Abyssal was just a page. Practically a familiar.”

“Damn, so you’re saying there might be more of them?”

“Possibly, but I think it would be best for us to return home. I have my samples for analysis. Besides, I could go for a warm shower. This sludge feels terrible on my skin…”

“The smell ain’t great either… Do you mind if I join you too?”

“If you’re expecting a sexy shower, you’ll be sorely disappointed…”

“Normally I would be, but I kind of just want to wash this shit off and go to sleep. I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted.”

“Good to know we’re on the same page. Let’s go home, Curran.”

The two trudged out of the bog, heading back to Heinwald’s manor. The sludge coating their bodies felt like plaster, disgustingly thick and slimy. The sulfuric smell only seemed to fester, the odor becoming more and more foul. Curran felt himself growing nauseous as the stench assaulted his nostrils, and he couldn’t wait to rinse this disgusting slime down the drain. Ilia knew he needed it.

***

Curran inhaled deeply as he stirred awake. By the time he and Heinwald had returned home, it was already too late for him to return to his barracks at the Church or their shared room at the Halidom, so Heinwald let him stay the night. He couldn’t exactly complain. Falling asleep on the feather soft bed of a nobleman with his dear lover in his arms; it certainly beat the bare bones cots of the barracks or the mass-produced beds of the Halidom. He yawned and stretched, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Yet for some reason, his vision still seemed blurry. Did that sludge explosion from last night blind him? As he raised his hand to rub his eyes once more, Curran froze. Blurred vision or not, there was no denying this. His right arm was _gray._

“What… what the hell?” Curran asked.

He slapped his hands over his mouth. His gruff, burly voice seemed deeper and more syrupy, a hint of an accent lingering in it. It was a voice he knew well, but it absolutely wasn’t his own. Slowly, he began to put the pieces together: a gray arm, that familiar, yet unfamiliar voice… there was only one explanation. Hesitantly, he reached for Heinwald’s glasses on the nightstand, slipping them over the bridge of his nose. Suddenly his vision became crystal clear. He raced over to the bathroom, looking into the vanity mirror.

“OH MY GOD!” he screamed.

The face staring back at him in the mirror belonged to none other than Heinwald. This had to be some sort of crazy dream. Maybe the sludge was making him hallucinate. He pinched his cheek, desperately trying to wake himself up, but the harsh reality remained.

“Why are you yelling, Curran?” a groggy voice asked from the bedroom.

That voice, Curran recognized as his own. He rushed back into the bedroom, gaping at his own body, sitting up in the bed. “Curran” did a double take, his eyes bulging.

“Hein…” Curran said, frazzled, “I think we might have a bit of a problem here…”


	2. Chapter 2

The Curran in bed looked down at his hands, his body, his chest. It was completely different than what he remembered. Yet instead of panicking, he smirked, a giggle leaking from his mouth.

“Well isn’t this interesting,” he snickered, “It appears we’ve switched bodies.”

“How can you be so calm about this Hein?” Curran asked, “What the hell is even going on here…”

“I’m given cause to believe that Abyssal’s secretion has something to do with our current predicament.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it. After its self-destruction, we were completely coated in its sludge, and our hands were touching. This is merely a hypothesis, but I suspect that sludge makes ones’ soul unstable, and because we were in direct physical contact with each other, our consciousness was swapped during the fluctuation of our souls aetherical balance.”

“In English please?”

“My soul went into your body and yours went into mine.”

Now that Curran thought about it, he did remember an excruciating pain when the slime came in contact with their bodies. If the sludge was swapping their souls in the process, it would certainly explain the jolt of electricity he felt when it happened.

“Shit…” Curran cursed, “Do you think we’re gonna be stuck like this forever?”

“I wouldn’t say forever,” Heinwald assuaged, “Indefinitely is a more accurate estimate.”

“That doesn’t really assure me, Hein…”

“Perhaps I can enlist Sinoa’s and Kleimann’s help for my research. Initially I was planning on performing it solo so I could keep the remnants of the sample for myself, but I suppose three brains are better than one in this situation.”

“God, what am I going to do… I can’t stay like this…”

Heinwald furrowed his brow. It was unsettling for Curran to see his own face glaring at him.

“Are you saying there’s something wrong with my body, Curran?” Heinwald sneered.

“I mean I think it looks good on _you_ ,” Curran assured, “But what am I supposed to do about my work for the Inquisition? I can’t just walk up to the Cardinal looking like a completely different person and say I swapped bodies. Accident or not, that just screams heresy!”

“It might be best to try to avoid such duties until we can straighten everything out. In the mean time, I think we should stop by the Halidom. If we are to be temporarily out of commission, I feel it would be best to report it to our employers.”

“So we’re gonna tell Prince Euden about our body swap? You don’t think that would freak him out?”

“Stranger things have happened. Besides, even if we were to attempt to hide what happened, I don’t doubt that you would stumble over your words and blow our cover for us.”

“Hey! I haven’t worded over my stumbles in… oh God damn it…”

Heinwald looked to his partner smugly, as if to say, “I told you so.”

“Don’t give me that look,” Curran hissed, “Besides, if we’re gonna head over to the Halidom, shouldn’t we go pretty soon? Wouldn’t want the Prince to think we’re purposely shirking our duties.”

“That would be wise. Let me just grab a fresh shirt.”

Heinwald got out of bed, walking over his closet to pull a fresh chemise from the rack. As he tried to slide his arm through the sleeve of his shirt, the fabric caught around his now muscular forearm, refusing to go any further. He sighed, taking the shirt off so it wouldn’t tear.

“Babe, you should probably just wear my clothes,” Curran said, “I’m like three times your size.”

“I know,” Heinwald grumbled, “Force of habit I suppose…”

He passed his own clothes off to Curran, picking Curran’s Inquisitor uniform up from its sloppy pile on the floor. He slipped his arms through the blue undershirt, buttoning it up all the way before sliding on his white vest. The chest felt a bit tight, its buttons fighting against the fabric to keep the two halves of the shirt together. The lightly tanned skin of his chest peeked through the holes between the buttons, and each time he breathed was a threat for a button to burst. Still, Heinwald tried to pay it no mind. Even if he was in Curran’s perfect body, his own insecurities seemed to carry over, including the desire to hide the gray parts of his skin. As soon as he finished dressing, he turned around to face Curran, only to shake his head in disdain. Curran hadn’t even tied his cravat, and was just about to roll the sleeves of his robe to his elbows.

“Don’t you dare, Curran…” Heinwald snarled, “That robe is _silk._ It will wrinkle if you roll up the sleeves on it.”

“Your robe feels so stuffy though,” Curran complained, “I can understand wearing so many layers in the winter but how do you not melt when it’s hot out? Besides, you have no room to criticize my fashion choices. You’re not even wearing my uniform right!”

Heinwald looked down at his fully buttoned uniform, the sleeves unrolled completely and cuffed at his wrists. He even wore the jacket that Curran always seemed to leave one sleeve off of.

“Only complete tools leave their uniform’s sleeves unrolled,” Curran criticized, “And you’ve gotta unbutton the undershirt more if you want to be able to breathe.”

“I have a strange feeling _you’ve_ been wearing your uniform incorrectly all this time,” Heinwald sighed.

“Tch, fine. Do what you want. But at least unbutton the undershirt more…”

“Why?”

The strain on the buttons became too much for the fabric to bear, the one right between his pectorals popping right off. It hit Curran straight on the forehead, leaving a bright red mark between his eyes.

“ _That’s_ why…” Curran grumbled. 

“Have you ever considered investing in a larger undershirt Curran?” Heinwald asked.

“It fits everywhere except my chest. I don’t see any reason to replace me when it still fits for the most part.”

Heinwald shook his head. He didn’t know if it was frugality or empty-headedness that prevented Curran from buying better fitting clothes. Knowing Curran, it was probably the latter.

“Never change Curran,” Heinwald conceded reluctantly as he unbuttoned his undershirt, “Do you need me to help with the cravat? It takes practice to tie.”

“I just wasn’t going to wear it,” Curran confessed, “The way you tie it so tight and high up I feel like I’d choke.”

Heinwald looked down at Curran’s, well rather, his own chest. The coarse gray skin and ragged stitch lines were on full display. His patches were abnormal, a mark of the Abyss, but most importantly to him, Heinwald found them absolutely hideous to look at.

“Curran,” Heinwald scolded, “My gray spots must remain _hidden_!”

“Can’t I just leave the top one unbuttoned?”

“Then my stitch line would be visible! Honestly Curran…”

“Fine, fine… I’ll button it up…”

Curran buttoned the frilly shirt to the collar, fiddling with the excess lace for the cravat. Heinwald always made tying it look so easy, but Curran couldn’t figure how it worked for the life of him.

“Is that offer to tie this thing still on the table?” Curran asked.

“Of course,” Heinwald replied, tying the intricate necktie so the frills lay naturally against his collarbone, “I assume you’ll have no issue brushing my hair and tying it back.”

“I mean, I guess I can try…”

“Why do I have a bad feeling about this…”

***

Euden waited eagerly at the door to the smithy, sipping at the honey tea Cleo had brewed for him. Pretty soon, his brand new sword would be done, and he couldn’t wait to give it a test run. As he milled around the facility, he noticed a familiar pair approaching the Halidom. He could recognize those long black robes, that black and white hair, that Inquisitor uniform anywhere, yet today, something seemed off about the two, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“Curran! Heinwald!” he called out to the duo, waving his hand, “Over here!”

As the two came closer, it became even more apparent that something wasn’t right. Heinwald’s normally neatly tied hair seemed disheveled, flyaways sticking out from his ponytail, and his gait seemed heavier than normal. Curran, who typically walked with mediocre posture seemed to be standing perfectly upright, and the expression on his face was stern and serious. A brown, leather bag was slung over his shoulder, and he gripped onto the straps tightly, determined not to drop the contents within.

“Are you guys doing ok?” Euden worried, “You’re not looking so well.”

“Morning Euden,” “Heinwald” said, “And yeah things could be better.”

Euden stepped back in shock. He had never heard Heinwald speak so informally before. “Curran” shook his head, sighing in disappointment.

“Good morning your majesty,” “Curran” added.

“What…” Euden stammered in confusion, “What happened to you two…”

“Allow me to explain,” “Curran” elucidated, “Due to a chance encounter with an unknown Abyssal, Curran and I have swapped bodies.”

Euden blinked in surprise.

“So,” he started, pointing to “Curran,” “You’re Heinwald?”

“Correct,” Heinwald replied.

“And you’re Curran?” Euden asked, pointing at “Heinwald.”

“Yup,” Curran responded, “Believe me, we were just as confused as you are when we first found out…”

“I’ve seen a lot of strange things before,” Euden commented, “But this is just crazy. What even happened? How did you guys end up switching bodies?”

“I wish I had a definite answer for you,” Heinwald sighed, “The Abyssal we were pursuing doused us with a sludge of unknown properties, somehow making my soul swap places with Curran’s. Though I am loath to admit I’m still not certain exactly why the slime had such an effect, or how to reverse the switch for that matter.”

“We just thought it would be best to tell you about the situation,” Curran informed, “And let you know we might be on stand by until we figure out how to switch back…”

“I completely understand, but is there anything I can do to help?” Euden asked, “I may not know much about Abyssals, but I still want to help you guys.”

“Well, I dunno if there’s much you can do, sadly,” Curran grumbled, “Hein is going to try to get Sinoa and Kleimann to help him figure out why the sludge made us swap bodies, but other than that…”

“If that’s the case, do you want me to keep this a secret?” Euden asked.

“I’m certain others will find out eventually,” Heinwald admitted, “But perhaps it would be smart to not discuss it unless prompted. Panic is our greatest enemy.”

“Shit… I just thought of something Hein…” Curran worried, “What about Lathna?”

Heinwald rubbed his chin in thought. Lathna was a smart girl, and practically their daughter. She would certainly notice something was amiss with them, no matter how well they tried to hide it.

“I wouldn’t want to drag her into this,” Heinwald said, “It will hurt having to avoid her, but it’s for her own good. She has experienced the horrors of the Abyss firsthand. I wouldn’t want to heave any additional, unnecessary stress onto her.”

Heinwald turned to Euden, “Your majesty, I believe there actually is something you can do for us. Look over Lathna and make sure she never learns of our situation.”

“Of course,” Euden replied, “I’ll make sure she stays safe.”

Ramona stepped out of the smithy, wiping her brow as she looked for her waiting patron. She turned to the prince, smiling with pride.

“We’ve finished up your sword your majesty!” she beamed, “Come on in and let us know what you think!”

“Well, looks like I’m needed in the smithy,” Euden said, “Good luck to you two.”

He followed the blonde blacksmith into her workshop, closing the door behind him and leaving the two to talk amongst themselves. Heinwald took a quick look around the Halidom grounds. Various other allies milled and walked about the grassy knolls. Some brandished wooden weapons against practice dummies, training to perfect their arts of war and magic. Others harvested dragonfruit from the nearby trees and collected rupies from the mines. Yet Heinwald still saw hide nor hair of the two researchers. Perhaps they were already hard at work.

“Well, since we have that straightened out, I’m off to Kleimann’s lab,” Heinwald said, “Here’s hoping he’s there so I won’t have to go looking far for him.”

“Anything I can do in the meantime?” Curran asked, “Normally I’d report to the Cardinal to brief him on how the case is going but I don’t think it’d be very smart of me to do it while in your body.”

“Perhaps you could write a letter to him instead. That way, you can still inform him about the Abyssal without coming in contact with him.”

“I can’t remember; did we still have some parchment in our room here? Or should I check the Library Obscura.”

“If memory serves, Lathna took the rest of our room’s supply. I believe Fleur was giving art lessons and she wanted to join.”

“Oh yeah…”

Curran suddenly remembered. A few days ago, Lathna came back to their room, beaming with joy as she presented them with a gift: a hand drawn painting of the three of them. It was about the quality one would expect from a child, but it was still a kind gesture nonetheless.

“So I guess the Library it is,” Curran sighed.

“Would you like me to accompany you?” Heinwald asked.

“Nah, you should get to work on your research. I can find it on my own.”

“I guess this is where we part ways. Where should we reconvene?”

“Probably our room here. Just in case you need to stay late.”

“Then I’ll see you later.”

Heinwald kissed Curran on the cheek, his lips grazing the gray patch on the right side of “his” face. Curran shivered at the gentle press. It almost tickled, the place his soft lips touched growing warm against the normally coarse gray skin. He immediately covered the gray area with his hand, blush already starting to creep across his cheeks.

“Did you forget how damn sensitive your gray skin is, Hein?” Curran hissed.

“Oh I am well aware of my sensitivity Curran,” Heinwald smirked mischievously, “I did it on purpose. Now you know how I feel.”

“Bastard…”

“I love you too. Try not to make too much of a mess in the library.”

Before Curran could respond, Heinwald had already turned on his heel, bound for the castle’s gate. Curran shook his head, the warmth on his cheek finally beginning to fade. He knew Heinwald’s body was sensitive, but that was on a completely different level. Curran shook his head. Whether he was in Heinwald’s body or not, he was still an Inquisitor, and needed to see his duties fulfilled. He made his way down the stairway, proceeding over to the Library Obscura. Its gray exterior stood ominously by the halidom’s gem mine, book shaped lecterns lining the path towards it.

Curran pushed open the heavy door, the time-weathered hinges creaking. No matter how many times he came here, Curran would always find himself disoriented by the Library Obscura. Its walls almost seemed to be built on an angle, and a low miasma always hung along the floor, no matter how thoroughly Cleo cleaned it. He made his way through the twisting corridors, finally stumbling upon the work desk Heinwald had set up. He couldn’t deny that this library was a veritable treasure trove of knowledge, most of which would have been lost to history if not unearthed, but Curran still couldn’t understand how Heinwald could spend hours in here. The very air in the library seemed cold and oppressive, and he feared his sanity would crumble if he stayed inside for too long. Then again, Heinwald was a brilliant scholar. Someone who prided himself as a Seeker of Truth would have to be resistant against environments like this.

He sat down at Heinwald’s desk, pulling out a sheet of parchment and a fountain pen. The silver tip of the pen scratched against the paper, the black ink flowing with ease. Lines became letters, letters became words, words became sentences, however dry and didactic they may be. It was an Inquisition brief, not poetry. Curran didn’t need to use artistic style or extend the passage into a verbose novella. He just needed to get his job done.

As Curran prepared to sign his name at the bottom, he felt a chill run up his spine. Shadow mana surged through the corridor, practically flooding straight into his mind. He could hear the whispers of the Abyss. It beckoned him, tempted him, calling out to him in a tongue unknown. Was this what it was like to be a mage? Was this what it was like to be Heinwald?

Curran himself was never much suited for magic. He obviously knew what shadow attuned mana felt like, but this sensation was almost empowering, making him feel like he could topple a dragon through its manipulation alone. He set aside his finished letter, beginning to look around the library. Heinwald always kept a spare staff in the Library Obscura, just in case. Out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted it, a simple wooden polearm, yet it would be just enough to channel mana. As Curran wrapped his fingers around it, he felt a surge of mana pulse through his arm, his heart racing at this newfound power.

“Woah,” he gasped, “This ain’t bad.”

He pointed the staff at an empty clearing, muttering one of the incantations he heard in the whispers of the Abyss. With the flick of his wrist, a dark, miasmic cloud appeared before him, floating in midair. Curran wasn’t sure what this spell did, but he didn’t really care. He had performed a spell, and it worked. Did all mages feel this powerful when they executed a spell? If so, he could easily get used to this.

“Heh, it’s no axe, but I guess I could fight like this,” Curran scoffed cockily, “I’m a natural.”

The miasma floated closer to him, as if gravitating towards him. Just what was this spell anyway? He had never seen Heinwald conjure a floating miasma like this before. Inquisitively, Curran looked inside. He jumped back in shock as tentacles erupted from the miasma, wrapping around Curran’s arm.

“Shit!” he cursed.

He yanked his hand back, but the tentacle only seemed to grip his arm tighter, the suction cups on the underside latching on. As he tried to escape, another tentacle slithered out, wrapping around both of his legs. Curran tumbled onto the ground, clawing at the floor of the library to fight against the tug of the tentacles. Was whatever he had summoned trying to pull him into the miasma? If he was in his own body, he might be able to put up a fight, to rip the tentacles off of him with brute strength, but Heinwald’s body was so scrawny and weak. The tentacled horror could easily overpower him. He yelped as his body was yanked into the air, holding him upside down. Blood rushed to Curran’s head and his glasses fell to the floor as he struggled against the tentacle bindings. Yet no matter how much he squirmed in an attempt to escape, the tentacles would not budge.

“Fuck!” he shouted, “Let me go! I’m the one who summoned you! You’re supposed to listen to- mmph!”

A tentacle wrapped around his mouth, preventing him from calling for help. He bit at it in a feeble attempt to get it to let go, yet even as it wriggled in pain in his mouth, the tentacle refused to release its grip.

_“Damn…”_ Curran thought, _“I’m in deep shit now…”_

The miasma drifted closer to him, the tentacles writhing on his body beginning to pull him in. He was suffocating, squirming and struggling in one last attempt to escape. Was this the end?

“WEEHEHEHE! SHADOWSHACKLE!” a familiar voice cackled.

The tentacle around his legs let go as shadow mana bombarded it, dropping Curran onto the floor. A sharp axe cleaved into the rest of his bindings, freeing Curran’s arm and mouth. He gasped for breath, finally freed from the chokehold of the tentacles. He picked up Heinwald’s spectacles, positioning them over the bridge of his nose as he gazed at his saviors. Sinoa and Kleimann were fighting for their lives, repelling the tentacles he had summoned. The one who had cut him free however was Heinwald, wielding his axe slowly, but with the utmost care and precision.

“Hein!” Curran smiled, “Thank Ilia you made it in time.”

Heinwald sighed, scowling at his partner with disdain, “I can’t leave you alone in my body for ten minutes… What were you even trying to do Curran?”

“I just wanted to try casting some magic. You make it look so easy… I had no idea what went wrong…”

“Idiot… My magic requires the utmost precision and concentration to cast. If you pronounce even one word wrong, you’ll end up summoning a rogue Abyssal!”

“I can see that…”

Sinoa and Kleimann struggled against the tentacles as the two argued. Each time they beat one back, three more spawned in its place.

“Curran, Heinwald!” Sinoa pleaded, “Can we get some backup?”

Heinwald snatched the staff away from Curran, setting his axe down. Even if he had the strength to wield an axe, it was far too clunky of a weapon for him to get used to using. He lifted the staff, muttering an incantation under his breath to heal his faltering allies. Yet to his surprise, not even a puff of smoke was conjured. He kept trying, chanting over and over as the spell continuously fizzled out. He recited the spell with just the right inflections, flicked his wrist in just the right way, but still, the spell wouldn’t cast.

“Damn, just how little magic potential do you _have_ Curran!” Heinwald hissed, “I can’t even execute a basic attack!”

“I dunno what to tell you Hein,” Curran shook his head, “But my thanks for bringing me my axe. I’ll take care of this.”

He grabbed onto the pike of his axe, grunting as he tried to lift it up. How was it so heavy? Curran could normally swing his axe around with ease, using its weight to cleave into his foes. Yet now, he struggled to even hold it for longer than a minute.

“How… the hell…” Curran panted, “Are you… so… weak?”

“Weak?” Heinwald spat, taking offense, “At least I have the mental fortitude to use magic, and the common sense to not butcher a spell!”

“Mental fortitude? Common sense? Hein you’d probably summon this thing for fun! Knowing your fucked up tastes I bet you’d take _reaaaaal_ good advantage of summoning a raging tentacle monster…”

“And what is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“Gentlemen, can you please have this lover’s quarrel later?” Sinoa yelped, “I don’t know how much longer we can handle this thing…”

“Is it finally happening?” Kleimann cackled, “Today will I learn the truth of life after death? WAHAHAHA!”

“Easy there, old codger…” Curran said, “No one’s gonna die today. Hein, do you know a way to fix this?”

“I’m not certain,” Heinwald sneered, “It’s probably too _fucked up_ for you to want to attempt…”

“Hein are you kidding me right now! Now isn’t the time to be your annoying, sassy, petty self.”

“I keep learning wonderful new things about myself from you, Curran. Tell me, what _else_ do I do that you despise…”

“YOUR SARCASM SURE AS HELL ISN’T APPRECIATED!

“WHY? IS IT TOO COMPLICATED FOR YOUR MINISCULE BRAIN TO UNDERSTAND?”

“BOYS! PLEASE!” Sinoa cried out, her limbs now bound by tentacles, “WE COULD REALLY USE SOME HELP NOW!”

The two turned their heads to see Sinoa and Kleimann, now completely overpowered by the Abyssal. Its tentacles wrapped around their bodies, slowly dragging their struggling forms into the miasma. Heinwald clicked his tongue, clenching his fist tightly with irritation.

“Damn, we don’t have much time left…” Heinwald growled, “I guess I have no other choice then… Curran, hold out the palm of your right hand.”

“Why?” Curran asked.

“Just do it Curran! I haven’t the time to explain.”

Curran held his palm open reluctantly, looking at his partner in confusion. Heinwald picked up Curran’s axe, carefully slicing into the soft flesh of his palm. It wasn’t to the bone, but it still cut deep enough for blood to gush out of it, making Curran cringe in pain.

“Ow!” he grimaced, “What the hell was that for?”

Heinwald didn’t even answer, simply grabbing onto Curran’s arm and running towards the Abyssal. He streaked the bloodied palm against a tentacle, making the Abyssal immediately freeze up. It muttered something in a language Curran had never heard before, yet it didn’t seem to be a curse or a dying message. If anything, it almost sounded like reverence. The tentacles loosened their grip around Sinoa and Kleimanns’ struggling bodies, retreating into the Abyss as the miasmic cloud dissipated.

“That was way too close…” Sinoa sighed.

“I apologize for the trouble,” Heinwald replied, taking off his scarf and tying it tightly around Curran’s wound to temporarily halt the bleeding, “Curran won’t be attempting magic again. _Right,_ Curran?”

Curran gritted his teeth, scowling at Heinwald. If not for his bleeding hand, he would have slapped him.

“What the hell is your problem?” he snapped.

“Some way of showing gratitude, Curran…” Heinwald retorted, “Do you even know what would have happened if we hadn’t showed up? The only reason we came here was because I forgot to grab a particular book for my research. If it weren’t for that you’d be stranded alone in the Abyss by now, your mind completely shattered beyond repair.”

“I don’t appreciate the lecture Hein. You’ve done some pretty questionable stuff, but I held my tongue. You know, like a good partner would.”

“I am not one to condone or enable reckless and stupid decisions, _especially_ when the fool making them is my partner.”

“Stupid? Reckless? YOU CUT MY GOD DAMN HAND OPEN!”

“Only as a last resort from your initial folly. By the way, you really should report to Cleo or Hildegard to seal the gash up. It is technically _my_ hand after all, and I would hate for it to scar.”

Curran couldn’t take it anymore. He gritted his teeth through the pain, slapping Heinwald across the face. A bloodied handprint marked his left cheek as Heinwald cringed in pain.

“You are so insufferable, Heinwald!” Curran hissed.

Curran didn’t even leave any time for Heinwald to respond, storming out of the Library Obscura and slamming the door behind him. Sinoa’s eyes glinted with concern, the red haired researcher approaching her fellow scholar.

“Heinwald,” she worried, “Is everything ok between you and Curran?”

“I wish I could say for certain,” Heinwald sighed, wiping the blood off of his cheek, “He and I have had our spats before, but he’s never hit me, no matter how angry he got… Though I can’t say I didn’t completely deserve it…”

“Maybe you should go apologize then,” she suggested.

“No, it’s better to just give him space. Besides, our priority should be our research. It is of the utmost importance that Curran and I return to our correct bodies.”

Heinwald walked past his fellow researchers, grabbing the book he was looking for from the shelves. Still, Sinoa couldn’t help but worry for her friend. Heinwald almost seemed to have a natural talent for hiding his feelings, yet he always wore his heart on his sleeve when it came to those close to him. It was painfully apparent that he regretted what he said.

“Stop your dallying,” Heinwald said, “We have sludge to analyze.”

Sinoa shook her head, choosing not to say anything. It was never a good idea to meddle in a fight between lovers, even if she had good intentions. She straightened out her robes and grabbed onto Kleimann’s hand, following Heinwald out of the dreary library. The three of them had a long day of research ahead of them.


	3. Chapter 3

Heinwald pushed open the door to Kleimann’s laboratory, lighting the sconces within to illuminate the otherwise dimly lit room. After receiving numerous complaints about the nature of their experiments, particularly from the frequent explosions and noxious gas leaks, Cleo forced the Halidom’s scholars to move their laboratories and studies to the basement. While some like Althemia and Nicolas loathed this change, the more eccentric scholars like Yurius, Akasha, and Wujing seemed to relish in their new, dark and eerie environment. Heinwald, Sinoa, and Kleimann fell somewhere in the middle, not so bothered by the lack of light, but more so by the lack of space and proper airflow.

Heinwald began unloading his leather bag, taking out his flasks filled with samples and arranging them ergonomically on the work bench. He slipped into one of the spare lab coats, sliding on protective gloves and goggles before beginning his work.

“Heinwald,” Sinoa beamed, “We recently got a new centrifuge shipped in from Chanzelia! Would you like to put some of the sample in there?”

Heinwald had read about these “centrifuges” before. They were an ancient relic from the era of the goddess and often used to analyze blood samples. By using centrifugal force, the sample loaded within was separated to its most basic components, creating layers of the different substances contained within the solution.

“That isn’t a bad idea actually,” Heinwald replied, “I’m still unsure of what the sludge itself actually is. All I know is that it’s a bodily fluid from an Abyssal page. It could be blood, vomit, sweat… Perhaps separating it in a centrifuge would shine some light onto its nature.”

Heinwald grabbed an airtight receptacle from the centrifuge, placing it next to his sample. As he uncorked the lid on the flask containing the sample, a pungent odor assaulted his nose. It seemed to have coagulated overnight as well, its consistency changing from a semi-viscous fluid to a thick, almost pudding-like substance. Heinwald hoped this change wouldn’t skew his results. He had no idea if the Abyssal was still at large or not, and after what happened the first time he and Curran attempted to detain it, he wouldn’t want to risk worsening the situation. Heinwald scraped the sludge into the receptacle, locking the lid on as tight as possible before placing it into the centrifuge.

“Have you used this device before?” Heinwald asked.

“Once or twice,” Sinoa replied, “You just have to close the top and press the button to start it. It should be ready in about ten or fifteen minutes.”

“That sounds simple enough. Very well then.”

Heinwald followed Sinoa’s instructions, locking the sample into the centrifuge’s barreled chamber and closing the lid. He pressed the start button, the machine emitting a low, humming noise as it began rapidly spinning the sample within. Heinwald rubbed his chin, smiling in intrigue as he watched the machine hard at work.

“How fascinating,” Heinwald praised, “I must send my regards to the scholars at Chanzelia for being able to restore such an innovative artifact.”

“It certainly has seen some use since arriving!” Kleimann cackled, “Why just the other day, I was able to extract an incredibly potent numbing agent from some local flora.”

“I may very well have to bring my research here more often,” Heinwald smiled, “While there is nothing wrong with using logic to solve a case, having the scientific proof to back up my claim wouldn’t hurt.”

“While we wait for the centrifuge to finish up the sample, is there anything else you wanted to research?” Sinoa asked.

“I happened to grab some bog water and dirt from the affected area as well,” Heinwald replied, “Perhaps I should analyze that for any abnormalities.”

Heinwald brought the rest of his flasks over to a microscope, sanitizing a petri dish before plucking out an eye dropper and filling it with the sample of bog water. He squeezed the fluid into the dish, sliding it under the microscope for closer examination. Upon first glance, the water looked relatively normal. It was filled with algae, amoeba, and various single celled organisms, but that was to be expected of water from a marsh. Yet something in the corner of the dish caught his eye. It glowed faintly with bioluminescence, a trait uncommon of most marshland organisms. It was times like this when his body swap with Curran was a blessing. Even with his spectacles, his own eyes often had a hard time focusing on such small details. He zoomed in on the bioluminescence, focusing the microscope’s lens to make the image clearer.

“Ho? Well isn’t this interesting,” Heinwald said to himself.

Though it was faint, Heinwald could make out the distinct shape of a red blood cell clot. Its purple glow waxed and waned, a mark of Abyssal blood. Was the Abyssal page already wounded? Was its blood what was contaminating the marshlands? If so, who wounded it, and what manner of Abyssal was it whose blood could swap others souls?

“Heinwald,” Sinoa called, “The centrifuge is finished with your sample.”

Heinwald stood up from the microscope, walking over to the centrifuge to retrieve the now separated sludge. It had now divided into three, distinct layers. An off white, transparent fluid had settled at the top, while a clump of opaque, dark reddish-violet cells settled at the bottom. A thin, white layer divided the two. Based on the proportions of the components, the colors, the viscosity, Heinwald could immediately tell what this sample really was.

“Hmm,” he pondered, “So this is pure Abyssal blood.”

“It’s blood?” Sinoa wondered, “I can see the plasma, but why is there a purple layer where the red blood cells should be?”

“Abyssal blood is different from that of mortals,” Heinwald explained, “Their red blood cells are naturally violet, and bioluminescent while still alive. Though I have never seen Abyssal blood so pure. Typically when diluted, it takes on the reddish appearance of human blood. Could this page have been a spawn of a Great Old One?”

“So it was its blood that made you two swap places. But do you think you can figure out a way to switch back? Maybe we can create an antidote from the sample we have.”

“Unfortunately I think it’s far more complicated than exposing Curran and I to this sample yet again. This is merely a hypothesis, but I am given reason to believe that the cause for our swap is not the blood as a whole, but a fragment of it. I suppose you could say it’s a part of an Abyssal body’s defense system.”

“You don’t mean…”

“Yes. Its white blood cells. When Curran and I were first exposed to it, we experienced a painful shock. Perhaps the still living white blood cells were attacking us as if its host were still alive.”

“But white blood cells typically only live for 1-3 days… Do you think the ones in the sample you obtained are still alive?”

“Unfortunately, no… I retrieved this sample from a pile on the ground. In hindsight, maybe I should have scraped some of the sludge off of my body from when it first detonated, but at the time I feared the bacteria clinging to my skin would have contaminated the sample…”

“To be fair, you didn’t know it was going to switch your body with Curran’s. So what next?”

“It would behoove me to acquire another sample of this Abyssal’s blood, a fresh one from which I can extract the still living white blood cells.”

“Is there anything Kleimann and I can do to help?”

“Just keep the sample we have in the lab safe. Even if its cells are dead, I can still take a look at its DNA. In the mean time I feel I should go find Curran. Even if he is mad at me, this development would require his assistance.”

“Well, good luck Heinwald…”

***

Curran winced as Hildegard untied the scarf around his hand, his still fresh cut stinging. She waved her staff over the wound, sealing up the gash before rubbing the tender flesh with a medicinal salve.

“That should do it,” she said, “Try not to grip anything too tightly with your right hand. I wouldn’t want the wound to reopen.”

“Thanks, Hildegard,” Curran replied.

“How did you happen to get this wound anyway? It looks a lot deeper than a paper cut you’d get from reading.”

“Heh, how ‘bout you ask my asshole of a partner that? Honestly that guy… why does he have to be so cryptic about everything?”

Hildegard blinked in confusion, looking at him strangely.

“Is everything alright, Heinwald?” she asked, “You don’t mean to say Curran did this, do you? That seems so unlike him.”

Curran froze. He completely forgot for a moment that he was in Heinwald’s body. He couldn’t let Hildegard know the truth. Someone as pious as her would certainly tell the Cardinal, and that would be the end of his life as an Inquisitor. He straightened up his posture and smiled smugly. Curran had been around Heinwald enough to know his mannerisms to a tee, but he still had to be convincing.

“My apologies,” he said, trying his best to imitate Heinwald, “Curran was showing me a new dagger he had purchased from Ramona’s smithy, but being the blumbling buffoon he is, he accidentally sliced my palm open with it. Rest assured I intend to punish him thoroughly for it.”

“I beg your pardon,” Hildegard asked, “ _Blumbling?”_

_“Shit!”_ Curran thought.

He tried to maintain his composure. Of course he’d end up messing it up…

“It looks like he’s starting to rub off on me now,” Curran fibbed, “What am I to do with him?”

“Well, the next time you see him, tell him I say hello,” Hildegard said.

“I’ll be sure to send him your regards.”

Curran stood up from the chair in the Halidom’s infirmary, heading back out to the castle grounds. He agreed to meet up with Heinwald back at their room later, but if he was being honest, he wasn’t in the best mood to see him right now. Admittedly, it was partially Curran’s fault for attempting an unknown spell, but Heinwald didn’t have to call him stupid for it and cut his hand open. Sure, the two often bickered like an old married couple, exchanging quips and pushing each others’ buttons, but at the end of the day, all of their previous fights were nothing more than playful teasing. This, however, felt more like a feud, and Curran hated it.

Still, he couldn’t let this fight get to him. He still had to get that letter sent off to the Cardinal after all. Reluctantly, he returned to the Library Obscura. Just stepping through the door brought back the horrible memories of his struggle against the tentacled horror, but worse yet, his fight with Heinwald. He quickly snatched the letter off of the desk, sealing it up in an envelope before rushing out of the library. While he could normally just hand it off to Noelle for delivery, she was out on business leave in North Grastaea with Joachim. It looked like he was going to have to do it the old fashioned way and bring it to a post office in town.

He tucked the letter under his robes, making his way from the Halidom grounds to the nearby village. As he made his way to the post office, he could have sworn he heard someone calling out his name, well, _Heinwald’s_ name. He turned around, seeing a man in gaudy red robes and jewelry running up to him. The man bowed politely, offering his hand to shake.

“Lord Heinwald,” he said, “I wasn’t expecting to run into you today. Perchance have you put any thought into my proposal?”

Curran cocked his head in surprise. Even though he was dating a nobleman, Curran never seemed to get involved in Heinwald’s political affairs. He always found it too boring or confusing, and couldn’t recognize this man for the life of him.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” he asked.

“Surely you jest, Lord Heinwald,” the nobleman scoffed, “Our territories are right next to each other!”

“Ah, yes… you…”

Curran wished the nobleman had at least said his name. He was still completely in the dark.

“But still, my daughter and I are waiting eagerly for your response,” the nobleman beamed, “We will happily pay you whatever dowry you desire, should you choose to marry her.”

“Wait,” Curran froze, “Marry?”

“I understand you have many options for suitors on the table, but please consider how convenient the merger of our two territories would be.”

Curran gritted his teeth. Marriage? Dowry? Suitors? He had joked with Heinwald about him “buying himself a wife” before, but he wasn’t expecting Heinwald to seriously consider it. Today just seemed like one bad thing kept happening after another, but this took the cake.

“Keep your damn dowry…” he hissed, “I’m not interested.”

“I beg your pardon?” the nobleman gasped.

“I’m not marrying your daughter, or any other daughter of some pompous nobleman. I’m taken!”

“Taken? How could you refuse this opportunity? Don’t you realize how poor of a financial decision this is?”

“I don’t give a shit about the money!”

Curran looked the nobleman straight in the eyes, completely seething with rage.

“Now how about you do me a favor and go tell all of your nobleman friends this,” Curran spat, “I’m gay, I have a boyfriend, and we’ve been raising a daughter together. I’m not gonna marry any of your daughters no matter how much money you dangle in front of my face. I’m not that damn desperate!”

“Well I never!” the nobleman huffed, “You’ve made the biggest mistake of your life, Heinwald!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Curran grumbled, “Fry me a river. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a very important letter to deliver.”

Curran turned on his heel, walking away from the nobleman. He was already angry before, but now he was furious. Curran didn’t even have the patience to deal with the workers at the post office, fearing he would take his anger out on them. Instead, he simply slipped the letter into the mailbox out front, hoping for the best. It was still barely mid afternoon, but he could use a drink in the worst way.

He headed further into town, bound for a tavern he frequented biweekly with the other Inquisitors. Even if it was pretty early, this particular bar seemed to be open 24/7, also functioning as an inn and restaurant as well. He pushed open the wooden door, heading up to the bar counter. The bartender stood behind the polished wooden surface, wiping down glasses until they sparkled. He was tall and burly, with dark skin, a bushy beard, and a shaved head, yet he seemed to be a gentle giant. Curran fished into Heinwald’s coinpurse, slamming a handful of rupies onto the countertop.

“Get me my usual, Ralph,” Curran said.

“Usual?” the bartender asked, “Fraid I haven’t seen your face around here before.”

Curran bit his tongue. He slipped up again.

“Sorry,” he sighed, “A flagon of stout.”

Ralph hesitantly accepted the payment of rupies before filling up a glass with the cold, dark beverage. The foam spilled over the side, dripping down the glass and onto the countertop. Curran grabbed the handle, taking a large swig of the drink only to wince. It tasted so much more bitter than normal. Curran always loved dark beers like this for their bold richness, but it tasted so potent he almost choked. Then again, he did currently had the curse of Heinwald’s taste buds, and his partner was always the type of man who preferred fruity, sweet cocktails or high quality wines if he decided to drink. Still he didn’t want the stout he ordered going to waste. It was such an excellent brew, it was a darn shame it didn’t fit his current tastes. As he continued sipping away at the stout, the bartender stopped by to chat with him. Ralph was always a social kind of guy, especially if he saw someone drinking alone.

“Having a rough day?” he asked.

“You have no idea…” Curran sighed

“Say, how’d you know my name by the way? I know Ralph ain’t exactly an uncommon name but…”

Curran gripped onto his flagon. He had to think of a good reason so he wouldn’t blow his cover.

“My partner comes here all the time,” he explained, “He told me your name.”

Ralph took a close look at him, Curran inching back in surprise. He stared into his crimson eyes, gazing at his silver streaked hair, his patchy, scarred skin. Suddenly a smile stretched across Ralph’s face, a laugh leaking from his mouth.

“Wait a minute, you’re Curran’s boyfriend, aren’t you!” Ralph grinned, “So you finally decided to stop by. Surprised he’s not here with you. He busy with Inquisition stuff or something?”

“I guess you could say that,” Curran replied.

“Well, it’s nice to officially meet you. Curran has told me all about you.”

“Good things, I hope.”

Curran obviously knew the answer. Even if Heinwald was a bit of a tease and a brat, Curran loved him to pieces. He would brag about him at any chance he got, especially when he was slightly inebriated.

“Tells me that you’re insanely smart,” Ralph said, “And that even though you’re a nobleman, you’re still really kind and down to earth. That you’re always willing to help people out in your own unique way.”

Curran took another sip of his ale, his cheeks growing hot and red. He couldn’t tell if it was alcohol flush or embarrassment, but the more Ralph rehashed all the wonderful things he told him about Heinwald, the more flustered he felt. Even if they argued, they would make up. Even if Heinwald hid something from him, it was never done with malicious intent. He truly cared about Heinwald, which only made the fact that he raised a hand against him hurt even more.

“Ralph,” Curran said, “Is it ok if I ask you for some advice?”

“Fire away,” Ralph replied.

“Hei… Curran and I got into a terrible fight today. I said a bunch of nasty things about him in the spur of the moment… and I slapped him…”

“Ouch…”

“I feel terrible for doing it. I didn’t even mean the things I said about him. I was just so frustrated with him…”

“Maybe just say you’re sorry. Curran’s a pretty easy going guy, I’m sure he’ll accept your apology.”

“I know he seems that way on the outside, but my partner can be surprisingly sensitive. I can’t take back the things I said… or the fact that I hit him… I’m worried I threw a gorilla wrench into our relationship.”

“Don’t you mean a _monkey wrench_?”

“God damn it…”

“You’re worrying so much about him you’re starting to sound like him.”

“Y-yeah…”

“I think you might just be overthinking this. I dunno how much it means coming from someone you just recently met, but I know Curran, and I know he really cares about you.”

“Thank you Ralph. I really needed to hear that.”

Curran finished off the rest of his stout, already starting to feel a buzz from the alcohol. Heinwald was so much skinnier than he was, it was only natural he’d be more sensitive to alcohol.

“You know, Curran told me you have kind of a sweet tooth,” Ralph said, “Want me to mix you up a cosmopolitan? It’s on the house.”

“You had me at ‘on the house,’ Ralph,” Curran smirked, “Hit me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm just reusing an OC from Hearsay, but I really liked Ralph's gentle giant personality and wanted to write something with him in it again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm supposed to be working on NaNoWriMo but here I am writing fics instead OOPS

Heinwald’s gaze darted between the grandfather clock and the door to his and Curran’s room at the Halidom. All Curran had to do was mail a letter, but it sure was taking him a while. He normally trusted Curran, knowing he was an adept Inquisitor and for the most part a responsible adult, but after this morning, he was worried for him. Heinwald couldn’t really care less about what happened to his body, but because Curran’s soul was inside it, he feared for the worst. Suddenly, he heard a knock at the door. He stood up from his bed, turning the knob to answer it, only to see their ally Vanessa with his partner’s arm slung over her shoulder. He was as limp as a ragdoll, his cheeks pink and eyes half-lidded. That expression of stupor he wore across his lips could only mean one thing.

“Hey Curran,” Vanessa said, “Got a special delivery for ya.”

“Is he alright?” Heinwald asked, “He looks a bit…drunk.”

“Well, I did find him at the tavern downtown,” Vanessa explained, “Think he might have had a little bit too much…”

“He went out drinking at _this_ hour?” he sighed.

“Babe, I only had two drinks,” Curran slurred.

“My dear, you are a complete lightweight,” Heinwald said, “Two drinks for _you_ is like six for _me._ ”

“I’ve never even seen him get drunk before,” Vanessa confessed, “Funny enough, he kind of acts like you when he’s too many drinks in.”

“Is that so?” Heinwald asked, “Thank you for bringing him back, Vanessa. I’ll take care of him from here.”

Vanessa handed off Curran’s limp body to his partner, waving goodbye as she left to return to her room. Heinwald wasn’t particularly surprised to see Curran coming home inebriated. His partner had a bit of a drinking problem, but Heinwald never cared as he was a loving drunk instead of a belligerent one. Still, when he was in his own body, he often struggled to drag Curran into bed to lie down. Perhaps it was a mix of Curran’s body’s strength and his own body’s lightness, but he was able to carry his partner almost effortlessly.

_“Perhaps I should bulk up a bit more…”_ Heinwald thought.

“Hein…” Curran giggled, “I didn’t know you were such a lightweight.”

“I haven’t imbibed it frequently enough to become resistant. Not to mention my body mass does few favors for me,” Heinwald explained, “But still, drinking in the middle of the afternoon, my dear?”

“I drink when I’m stressed! You know that!”

“It has been a pretty rough day, hasn’t it…”

As Heinwald tucked his partner under the covers of the bed, he ran his fingers through his hair, caressing his scalp to calm him. The only benefit Heinwald could see of switching bodies was he knew exactly what his own body liked; and whenever Curran played with his hair, he couldn’t help but feel at ease. He noticed Curran’s expression soften as he leaned into Heinwald’s gentle touch.

“That feels pretty nice,” Curran cooed, “Thanks Hein.”

“Would you like me to go get you some water?” Heinwald offered.

“That’d help… But first, I wanted to say I’m sorry… I’m sorry for calling you all those nasty things earlier today… I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean any of it.”

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have called you stupid. I do think you have a brilliant mind Curran, you can just be too reckless for your own good… and that frightens me…”

“Nah, I kinda deserved to be called stupid… reciting some random spell I heard on the wind? That is pretty damn stupid…”

“You weren’t stupid, you just made a basic mistake that many fledgling mages commit… giving into the temptation of the unknown. Even if its practice has become more common, there is a very fine line mages must tow to not bring about untold destruction, especially for those of us whose natural affinity lies with shadow attuned mana.”

“Guess I’ll have to hit the books if I wanna try again… that is, if you’ll even let me.”

“Perhaps I could show you a few basic spells, but I wouldn’t recommend attempting the ones I usually cast. My Call of Chaos took years for me to master, and I still find things about it that need to be improved.”

“I can show you how to actually swing an axe too if you want. You can’t be scared of its weight, just let it carry you.”

“I might just take you up on that when you’ve sobered up.”

Heinwald gently kissed Curran, smiling at him tenderly. It was still a bit disorienting for Heinwald to stare down at his own face, his own body, but the expression his partner wore was so clearly Curran, he didn’t mind. He often struggled to see how Curran found him attractive. His scrawny body, his coarse, gray skin that stood out in stark contrast with his almost sickly white skin, his stitch marks and scars. He wasn’t conventionally attractive to say the least. Yet now, seeing things from Curran’s perspective, he began to notice faint, beautiful things about him that he otherwise dismiss.

His eyes were such a vibrant crimson, glinting like two polished rubies, and the fairer parts of his skin were surprisingly soft. Even if just by comparison to his gray skin, it was still supple and smooth. His curly hair flowed and cascaded like a waterfall down his back and across the sheets, the black and white strands glistening with a silken sheen. Now that he wasn’t seeing things with his own overly critical eyes, now that his vision wasn’t clouded by his own self hatred and judgment, Heinwald could finally see what drew Curran to him, even if only by a little bit.

“Let me get you that water,” Heinwald cooed.

As he was about to leave the room, he felt a spindly hand grip at his arm. He turned around to see his partner grabbing onto him. Though he was still pretty clearly inebriated, he still seemed curious about something.

“Wait,” Curran said, “Before you go… didja find anything out about the sludge today?”

“I was going to tell you when you were sober enough to understand, but if you really want to know,” Heinwald explained, “It was the Abyssal’s blood.”

“Sheesh, so Abyssal blood has strange powers like that?”

“Explaining the capabilities of different Abyssals within the pantheon is a lecture within itself… but I shall save that for another day. What caused our predicament came both a mix of the Abyssal’s latent ability and the page’s body’s defense mechanism. In other words, its white blood cells attacked us as if we were an intruding contagion.”

“So we just gotta get more of its white blood cells to change back, right?”

“If only it were that simple… The cells contained within the sample have already died, so we at least need to locate another page and extract blood directly from the still living source. Only living white blood cells will yield the intended effect.”

“Doesn’t sound too bad. We just head back to Saint Lotier and find another one.”

“If it’s still there. I sadly don’t recall seeing any additional spawn in the area. Pages are connected to their patron Abyssal itself. The deity may have sensed its page’s demise and very well have moved onto a safer spawning ground. Not to mention, when we last faced it we were in our own bodies. If we want to make contact with it again, I will have to learn your combat style and you will have to learn mine.”

“Shit… this is gonna be harder than I thought…”

“But worry not my dear. Once you are feeling well enough, I intend to put you through magic boot camp. You may not reach my level in the allotted time, but at the very least you’ll be able to hold your own and heal our wounds should we get injured.”

“Then I’ll be sure to trip you into shape to wield my axe properly.”

“Don’t you mean _whip_ me into shape?”

“Go easy on me, I’m drunk.”

“As if you wouldn’t make the same slip up while sober.”

“Oh shut up…”

***

Heinwald held the axe tightly in both hands, staring down the wooden practice dummy. This method of training wasn’t as ideal for combat; striking a still target instead of a moving one, but Heinwald had yet to reach the skill level for him to safely spar with others. Curran watched from the side, rubbing his chin as he observed his fighting style.

“Ok, stop, stop…” Curran sighed, walking over to his partner.

“What was I doing wrong this time?” Heinwald wondered.

“Where do I begin…”

Heinwald scowled at him.

“Hey don’t give me that look!” Curran sneered, “You didn’t exactly hold back on your criticisms when you were teaching me magic earlier.”

“Because mispronouncing a word could result in you blowing your hand off, my dear,” Heinwald explained, “I was being critical for your safety.”

“And so am I. The way you’re swinging the axe, you’d be leaving your side and back completely open.”

Curran took the weapon from his partner, demonstrating the proper stance himself. Because the weapon was a wooden one, built explicitly for practicing form over dealing damage, Curran could handle the lightweight arm with ease, even in Heinwald’s scrawny body. He leaned forward over his knee, holding the axe back with one hand as he lunged forward.

“My body is strong enough to hold an axe in one hand,” Curran instructed, “Using both hands to grip the pike leaves way more openings and tires you out faster.”

“Wouldn’t gripping it in one hand throw off my balance?” Heinwald asked.

“If it were a halberd like Elisanne’s, maybe, but I use a tomahawk. They’re heavy enough to cleave through large crowds but light enough for me to throw.”

Heinwald watched carefully as Curran demonstrated basic stances and attacks while using an axe. He seemed to flow with the natural weight of the axe, his motions following a slow yet precise rhythm. It was almost like a dance, a dangerous waltz where he let his weapon take the lead. Perhaps that was Heinwald’s problem. While magic was about subjugating mana to bend it to his will, wielding an axe required him to let go and follow the natural flow of his weapon. Curran wiped his brow, passing the axe back to Heinwald.

“Hope you were paying attention,” Curran said, “Now you try.”

Heinwald took the axe in his hand, mimicking Curran’s motions. He had to fight his own instincts to control the weapon, wanting to use his newfound strength to command it.

“You’re too tense,” Curran instructed, “Loosen up. Don’t fight the weight of the weapon, let it guide you!”

Heinwald tried again, keeping his grip on the pike tight, but the muscles in his forearms relaxed. He took a deep breath, the weapon feeling lighter in his hand as he moved with the natural flow of the axe. Curran whistled, nodding in approval.

“Now you’re gettin’ the hang of it,” he praised.

“Is it enough for you to teach me your signature attacks?” Heinwald asked.

“Well, you still have room to improve, but I think you’re good enough to learn how to throw an axe now. Hand that over to me.”

He passed the wooden axe back to Curran, who did a few quick stretches before his demonstration. His Circular Judgment not only required great strength, but also keen precision and agility. He feared he wouldn’t even be able to execute it in Heinwald’s body, given his impaired vision and lack of stamina, but he steeled himself, gripping tightly onto the axe and stepping back.

“You’ve got to get a bit of a running start,” Curran explained, “And the wrist movement is crucial. The key is to flick it like you’re skipping a stone on a lake. You have to get it to spin for a second. Then right as it’s about to fall…”

Curran demonstrated, flinging his axe so it spun towards the striking dummy like a top. The second it began to arc down, he raced forward, jumping up to grab the axe midair. His leap propelled him forward, the weapon slamming down into a mighty blow against the dummy.

“You run for it and catch it,” he panted, “Then just let the momentum carry you down.”

“Well baste me and call me a roast turkey!” a familiar, gruff voice said, “I didn’t know you knew how to use an axe, Heinwald.”

Heinwald and Curran froze, turning their heads to see Ranzal watching in intrigue. The two stared at each other, practically speaking to each other through facial expression alone.

_“Shit, he caught us,”_ Curran fretted, _“What are we gonna do Hein? Do we tell him?”_

 _“This is a bit of an unfortunate complication…”_ Heinwald thought, _“Leave it to me. I’ll think up an excuse.”_

“I’m impressed,” Ranzal praised, “You’re handling that thing like a pro!”

“Yeah, he sure is a good student isn’t he?” Heinwald said, imitating Curran.

“Student? Now that you mention it, his technique did look really similar to yours Curran… So you taught him to swing an axe, huh?”

“Mhm. It’s always good to branch out and learn a new skill. Makes you well rounded. As a matter of fact, he’s been teaching me a bit of magic as well.”

Heinwald racked his brain for a simple spell. Most of his earlier lesson with Curran had been pure study and recitations, but he definitely felt more magic potential than before. He muttered a simple incantation, a small, violet hollow materializing between his hands.

“Cool huh?” he smirked.

“Well I’ll be damned!” Ranzal chuckled, “Never thought I’d see the day you’d be using magic, and Heinwald would be throwing an axe for that matter!”

“Well you know what they say,” Heinwald said, his pearly white teeth glinting, “It’s always good to trodden your horizons.”

_“Do I really sound that stupid when I slip up?”_ Curran sighed.

“Hey, Curran,” Ranzal beamed, “If you’re teachin’ Heinwald your techniques, would you mind showing me a thing or two? I’ve always thought the way you’ve thrown your axe is pretty cool.”

“Hmm, as much as I would like to, I’ve got to report to the Cardinal for a briefing in a few hours,” Heinwald fibbed, “But _Hein_ on the other hand is free. What if he teaches you? It’ll be a win-win. You get to learn and he gets to practice.”

“HUH?” Curran gaped, “Hei- Curran… a moment if you would.”

Curran pulled Heinwald aside so they were out of Ranzal’s earshot, gritting his teeth in irritation.

“What the hell Hein…” Curran hissed, “ _You’re_ the one who needs practice, not me.”

“I did what I could to avoid suspicion,” Heinwald explained, “What would he think if he saw you in my body executing a throw perfectly and me flubbing it in yours? Ranzal may not be the brightest, but I don’t doubt even he would be able to connect the dots from there.”

“Yeah but training in your body is such a pain. I almost got winded just from showing you how to execute Circular Judgment! Your stamina is terrible.”

“Oh I’m well aware, but think of it this way. The more you train, the more my stamina improves, and the longer I’ll last in bed…”

Curran clicked his tongue.

“Lazy ass…” he growled, “If you took the time to exercise on your own, it wouldn’t be a problem…”

“Well if you get too tired, you can always ask Ranzal to pay you for teaching him,” Heinwald suggested.

“With what? He’s not exactly swimming in rupies like you, Hein…”

“To tell you the truth, there’s a grimoire I’ve had my eyes on for a while. If you get too tired, ask him to pay you by buying you a Shadow Skill Tome.”

“This seems like a win for you and loss for me no matter what…”

“Once we get our bodies back, I’ll make it up to you and then some. I promise you.”

Curran sighed, shaking his head in defeat.

“Fine,” he grumbled, reluctantly conceding, “But I’m gonna hold you to it.”

The pair turned back around to Ranzal, Curran approaching him with the wooden training axe. He tried his best to put on his haughty airs, impersonating Heinwald to his best extent.

“Very well,” Curran said, “I’ll teach you what I’ve learned. Don’t expect me to go easy on you though, Ranzal. Curran tells me I’m a bit of a Spartan instructor.”

“Fine by me, teach!” Ranzal laughed, “Now show me how to get that arc right.”

“Good luck sweetie,” Heinwald smiled, playing along and kissing his partner chastely on the cheek, “I know you’ll do well.”

Heinwald walked away from the training ground, leaving his partner to teach Ranzal his skills. He’d have to grab another wooden axe and practice in private on his own later. Fortunately for Heinwald, he had a photographic memory, but finding a quiet place for him to practice by himself in the bustling halidom would be a challenge, especially during the daytime. He’d have to find something else productive to do in the mean time. There was still a veritable myriad of mysteries for him to solve regarding his and Curran’s body swap: what Outer Dragon did the Abyssal page serve? What other location would be a likely spawning ground? Have any others fallen victim to the same situation that he and Curran currently found themselves embroiled in? There were so many questions to be answered, but Heinwald had a hunch he knew where he could start. He would crack this case wide open, he was determined to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus were skill shares born!


End file.
